juggling to the french national anthem
tuesday was spontaneous and i was glad for it. surprise relief from the monotony of studying in the form of killiney beach.
and it was so beautiful down there too. the sky was shades and textures and layers of grey, with flecks of pearly purple and white here and there; the sea grey and silver and faded navy blue, rippling with small waves even with the fifteen minutes of misting we got; bray head green and purple and brown – the gorse hasn’t quite burst into flame yet; and then the pebbly sand itself brown, and yet so many different colours at once when you look straight down at it.
and then yesterday the sea was such a pure, bright, shimmering blue that i couldn’t help but grin every time i looked at it, so brilliant that i could hardly keep my eyes on it for more than a few seconds without them burning.
it was so wonderful to sit behind the desk and, when there was too much murmuring amongst the delegates in my committee and again in ga, call,
order on the floor, order on the floor
and hear the low noise immediately subside.
dead quiet. people listening. respect for the speaker.
sometimes i only wish that it didn’t just apply to mun.
and instead at the end of the day, i’m juggling to the french national anthem or scraping the coffee grounds from the french press into the bin. don’t ask me about the whole french thing. i don’t know.
and maybe i’m still a little angry that the delegate representing russia never received justice for what he did. i think i may have been the only one burning, seething with anger that nothing was ever done. oh, plenty of people were angry at what he did. but most just sat back and said, you know, it’s the second to last resolution of the conference. there’s really no time to do anything now…
maybe i’m just dreading that maybe possibly be a time where i lapse into feeling the same thing. when i no longer will care. and maybe i’m just a little disgusted that time is being put over justice.
